


Ouija (the nevermore remix)

by somnolentblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: spn_bitesized, Gen, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnolentblue/pseuds/somnolentblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deanna is a silent passenger in the car, anchored by a ring that disappeared into the trunk that terrible night</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouija (the nevermore remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ouija](https://archiveofourown.org/works/338095) by [EllieMurasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki). 



> Thanks to [scintilla10](http://scintilla10.dreamwidth.org) for betaing! Concrit is welcomed, and feedback is love.

Deanna's tired of watching her family swirl around Hell, and she could kill John for what he did to her baby's babies. She's a silent passenger in the car, anchored by a ring that disappeared into the trunk that terrible night, and she watches John drown in grief and a fierce desire to protect, Dean mirror his father and twist around his brother, and Sam scramble to define himself outside of _Winchester_ ( _Campbell_ , although he doesn't know it) and yearn for the ignorance he'd once resented.

The sliver of foresight that runs in her family adds to her own private purgatory, watching the future spin out in a kaleidoscope of blood and death. She's spared the migraines that had struck her aunt and brother when they saw the what-will-bes — there are, it seems, advantages to being dead — but being unable to warn her grandsons about the demons and angels that will one day entrap them is maddening.

Sometimes, she remembers that it's not John's fault. Mary, for reasons known only to God and herself, didn't tell him squat, and he was left without refuge or guidance. That they're all still alive is a testament to his strength, and his ignorance — innocence — is no more his fault than a baby's. Not that this ever-so-reasonable approach calms her down much the first time he goes after a naiad with mint instead of basil. His ride back to the Clearys to get stitched up that night is a bit rougher than usual.

(She loves her daughter, and she's so, so, so glad Mary survived the night she and Samuel died, even if she could have killed her for dealing with a demon against all reason and sense. She can almost understand — she would have done anything to save Mary from the inferno. Still, Deanna can't deny that she'd like to yell at her daughter while crushing her in a bone-crunching hug and absolutely not crying.)

So Deanna cradles the boys in her invisible hands as they grow, smoothing hair and giving forehead kisses and making the light stay on just a little bit longer while Dean reads comics (gun mags, porn mags, magical realism) or Sam does multiplication tables (long division, algebra, college applications).

And then she feels a knocking, a rat-a-tat-tapping inviting her elsewhere, and the blood she shares with the son of her daughter is enough to let her follow the opened path across runes drawn in blessed oil and anchor her somewhere new. She sees Sammy (she's never seen him without Dean before), a blonde woman (she _has_ seen her before, Sammy's girlfriend who has bled and died in Deanna's visions and the not-sleep of the dead), and a ouija board (she's never used one before, but how hard can it be to make a planchet move).

For the first time in over twenty years, Deanna speaks.


End file.
